


Secrets

by nightrose



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Bruises, Dom/sub, Friendship, Kink Shaming, M/M, Miscommunication
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-05
Updated: 2014-02-05
Packaged: 2018-01-11 06:07:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1169601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nightrose/pseuds/nightrose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Enjolras and Grantaire are in a loving relationship, but their friends grow concerned when Grantaire shows up with a bruise on his face. Grantaire hesitates to tell them that it's from a consensual BDSM scene, and they assume the worst. </p><p>For a kink meme prompt.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Secrets

Courfeyrac is the first to notice. He’s the one who pays the most attention to all his friends, after all, and he’s the one who lacks tact in just the right way to make him point at Grantaire and say “What’s that on your face?”

Immediately, Grantaire’s hand flies up, covering the light bruise on his cheek. “Nothing.”

“I haven’t seen you at the boxing gym,” Bahorel observes, and then everyone is crowding around him.

“Let me see,” Joly insists. “If you’re having spontaneous facial bruising, that’s a problem.”

“It’s not spontaneous, okay, it’s just nothing to worry about.”

“Are you all right, my love?” Jehan murmurs.

“I’m fine,” Grantaire says, but his voice is quiet, like he’s ashamed of something.

“We want to know, R. If something’s wrong. You’re our friend, and we want to help,” Marius insists.

“Please,” Grantaire answers, his voice shaky.”It’s nothing. Don’t worry about it.”

“You can trust me,“ Jehan says.

“I said I’m fine,” Grantaire hisses, but immediately looks repentant at the shocked expression Jehan makes. “Sorry. I’m sorry, forget I—I’m just gonna go have a smoke, all right? I’ll be back in in a second.”

“Grantaire—“

But he’s gone.

The rest of the Amis present look around at each other. “What the fuck?” Bahorel says finally.

“Something’s wrong,” Joly agrees. “Something’s really, seriously wrong with R, that’s not… that’s not like him, to yell at Jehan.”

And then Enjolras walks in. He, Feuilly, and Combeferre are deep in conversation as they stroll through the door.

Courfeyrac interrupts, “Enjolras, what’s wrong with your boyfriend?”

“Something’s wrong?” Enjolras’ expression is one of utter panic. “Where is he?”

“Do you know how he got that wicked bruise on his face?”

Enjolras gets tenser, if possible. “That’s nothing,” he says. “It was an accident.”

“So how did he get it? What kind of accident?” Bahorel presses.

“Where is he?”

“Outside,” Courfeyrac says, and Enjolras storms out without another word.

**************

Grantaire is leaning against the balcony railing, smoking, when he feels a soft hand on his shoulder. He jumps a little before he hears a soft voice in his ear. “Just me, love.”

“Enjolras,” he murmurs, relaxing into his lover’s arms. Enjolras presses a kiss to the top of his head, his arms circling Grantaire’s waist.

“You all right?”

Grantaire shakes his head slightly. 

“Tell me.”

“I—the others, they saw, on my face, and I think… they were pressing me to talk about it, and I didn’t know what to say.”

“I’m sorry,” Enjolras says gently. “I should have been more careful.”

“I asked for it.”

“Still, it’s my responsibility to make sure I don’t hurt you.” Enjolras presses his lips against the bruise on Grantaire’s cheek. “I hit you too hard, and I’m sorry.”

“It’s all right.”

“Clearly it isn’t, R. You’re upset about this. I can tell.”

“It’s not the scene that’s upset me. I promise.”

“Then can you tell me what’s wrong? Please?” Enjolras asks, so carefully and sweetly.

“Not here?”

“All right. Let’s go home and talk it over.”

“But—“

“What?”

“You’re supposed to- the meeting-“

“It can wait,” Enjolras says calmly. 

Grantaire isn’t sure what to say. He promised himself he would never expect Enjolras to choose him or their relationship over his cause. But he can’t deny the fact that it feels good that Enjolras would. “It doesn’t have to.”

“I know. Let’s get going, yeah?”

“Thank you,” Grantaire murmurs. Enjolras kisses his neck, wet and open-mouthed, and then bites possessively at the skin. Grantaire sighs, relaxing against him.

“You’re mine, and I promise, I will take care of you.”

“I love you, Enjolras.”

“I love you too. C’mon.”

Enjolras steps from behind Grantaire to beside him and takes his hand. They jump over the balcony hand-in-hand and make their way back to their shared apartment.

 

Enjolras and Grantaire curl up on their couch as soon as they’re home. Enjolras wraps an arm around his lover’s shoulders and kisses his temple. 

“Guess I should start talking,” Grantaire mumbles.

“You don’t have to, love. No pressure.”

“It’s okay. It’s just. Y’know.”

“I don’t, but I don’t need to. You’re allowed to have your secrets, if you’d like. Just tell me what I can do to make it easier.”

“I need- Sir, I need-“

As soon as Grantaire uses the title, Enjolras tenses. It’s rare for Grantaire to do that outside of a scene, and it’s almost never a good thing. “Sweetheart?”

“Sorry,” Grantaire mumbles. “I’m sorry, Sir, I’m sorry, I need to- can I kneel for you, please—“

“Of course, R.” Enjolras places a pillow on the floor and takes Grantaire’s hand, helping his lover to kneel between his legs. He strokes Grantaire’s hair, letting the other man rest his head against his thigh. “All right, my love?”

“Good, sir. Thank you.”

Enjolras patiently waits for Grantaire to speak. When he does, his voice is quiet. “Will- would it be okay for me to ask for a beating, sir?”

“It’s always all right to ask,” Enjolras assures him. “Nothing to be ashamed of. I just don’t know if I can, right now.”

“Okay,” Grantaire mumbles. “Sorry.”

“Let me explain. It’s not that I wouldn’t like to, it’s just… I’m worried about you. I don’t want to use a scene as an alternative to you talking about what’s on your mind, though I’m happy to use dominance as a way to help you process you feelings afterwards. You don’t have to tell me what’s wrong, but I’m uncomfortable with doing a scene right now unless you can. Does that make sense?”

“Yes, sir.”

“The last thing I want you to think is that I’m trying to push you away, or that I don’t find you desirable when things get difficult. I just don’t want to—to make things worse.”

“You like doing this, though?” Grantaire asks, looking down.

“What, sweetheart?”

“Y’know. This whole thing. You don’t think it’s—think I’m—“

Enjolras puts two cool fingers under Grantaire’s done, tilting the submissive’s face up. “R?”

“You like that I’m—submissive?”

“Of course I do.” But Enjolras can see that there’s no ‘of course’ about it, not for his Grantaire. He trails his fingers across Grantaire’s cheek, gentle and possessive at once. “I think you are perfect exactly as you are, and I would not change a single thing about you, except perhaps to make you more content with your lovely self. Nothing gives me so much pleasure as the trust you place in me with your submission. But what brought this up?”

“I just—they were asking about the bruise, and—“

“Oh, love, I’m so sorry. I should have been more careful, never should have hit you that hard.”

“I liked it. I asked for it, sir, it’s just…”

Grantaire hesitates. Enjolras can tell that he’s thinking about it, though, and he gives Grantaire time to phrase his answer.

“When I was… before I met you and the Amis, I had another group of friends. I knew them since I was young. Y’know.”

Enjolras has periodically heard Grantaire speak of the crowd of boys he fell in with after running away from home at fifteen, the boys who became his substitute family and then disappeared from his life. Grantaire has never before offered details, though.

“They were… I thought they would always be around. For me. No matter what. That’s what we always said. And one day, I was drunk and I—I told one of them. About—me.”

“What about yourself, sweetheart?”

“That I’m submissive. That I—I had never done it, I was only sixteen, but I’ve always fantasized about it and—he laughed at me. He laughed at me and he told everyone and they were all joking about it and—I told him to apologize, or else I’d never forgive him, and he laughed. So I left.”

“Grantaire—“

“I left and I—I just don’t want—I don’t want to go through that again. I don’t want to be made to feel ashamed of you, of this. It’s the… it’s the most incredible thing, that you want me, that you let me be yours. I don’t want to have to feel like that’s wrong.”

“Okay,” Enjolras says. “Then we won’t tell them.”

“But what will we do?”

“You’ll let me figure it out. I’ll come up with something to say.”

“But sir—“

“Shh. You have nothing to worry about, I’m sure. But no matter what, I am here. Whatever their reaction, I will be here to help.”

“But—I won’t ask you to—ask you to choose me over your friends. You can’t—“

“Sweetheart, everything we’ve done, we’ve done together. If it’s wrong, or revolting, or… whatever, whatever it is that you’re scared of them thinking, than I’m disgusting too. Because I’m here with you, I’m in this with you, in every possible way.”

“Are you sure they won’t- I mean, that won’t just make it worse?”

“Grantaire?”

“You’re you, you’re pure and perfect and—they all—I’m—“

“Hush, love. Hush. It’s all right. You’re all right,” Enjolras soothes quietly. “I’ve got you, I’m here. I won’t let anything get between us, all right? Nothing. Not even our friends. And I know, I know it’s hard to remember, my love, but those—that’s all you, my love, you’re the only one of us who thinks you don’t deserve me. The rest of them know that it’s the other way around, that I could never be worthy of your love.”

“Master,” Grantaire breathes, looking up at Enjolras, and Enjolras gently leans down, pressing a kiss to his forehead.

“I will take care of this. And you. I promise.”

“It’s okay,” Grantaire says quietly. “You can tell them, if you want. Just… just, can you do it? Please? I don’t want to—don’t want to have to see the look on their faces…”

“Oh, sweetheart,” Enjolras soothes. “Shh. You don’t have to tell them. They don’t have to know. It’s all right. Let me be the one to deal with this. I can live with it. I just need to know you’re all right.”

“Thank you,” Grantaire murmurs, finally relaxing as Enjolras’ hand cards through his hair.

“You want to have a scene?”

“Yes, sir. Maybe a nice whipping?”

“Okay, my love,” Enjolras agrees. “But just my belt, all right?”

“Now? Please?”

“Of course,” Enjolras agrees. “Sure you’re all right to do this?”

“I’m sure, sir. It’ll help. Make me feel better.”

“That’s what I want. I want you to know how precious you are to me. That you’re perfect the way you are. Can you say that for me, love?”

“You—you think I’m perfect,” Grantaire says, flushing bright.

“Good boy. C’mon, let’s get you up.” Enjolras takes his submissive’s hand, helping him up to his feet. He kisses Grantaire deeply on the mouth, fumbling with Grantaire’s pants as he does. He tugs them down just to his knees, meaning Grantaire won’t be able to move too much. “Okay?”

“Yes, sir.”

“You’re doing so good for me.” 

“Thank you.”

“Can you take of your shirt for me?”

“Yes, sir.”

Grantaire blushes as he unbuttons his shirt, and Enjolras grins and kisses his flushed cheek. “You’re beautiful.” His hand creeps down to cup Grantaire’s ass. Enjolras rubs a firm hand over the skin and gives him a hard spank. Grantaire moans. “Tell me what you want. Why you want this.”

“I want you to make me feel—to forget everything except you, to only feel you, nothing else—“

“Okay. Good, R, I can do that for you. 

“Thank you, sir.”

“Here. Bend over the couch for me. You tell me when you’ve had enough, all right? I’ll stop when you want me to.”

“Can—can you decide? Please?”

“Of course, darling. I’m proud of you for asking.” Without further warning, Enjolras slams the belt down hard across Grantaire’s back.

“Thank you,” Grantaire moans.

“Anything for you, my love. I want to make you happy. You deserve to be happy.” 

He slaps the belt against Grantaire again, and Grantaire whimpers. “You do, sir. I’m so happy. As long as I’m yours I’m happy.”

“You are,” Enjolras assures him. He bends over Grantaire’s body, kissing and biting the back of Grantaire’s neck. “You’re my own good boy, and I won’t let anything change that.”

“Thank you,” Grantaire sighs, his whole body going limp with contentment as Enjolras stands back up, starting to whip him in earnest.

“So good,” Enjolras is saying, “Good,” and “Mine,” and “I love you,” and Grantaire can feel all the anxiety falling away, can feel himself floating peacefully into subspace.

That’s when there’s a knock on the door.

 

“We go make sure R isn’t getting beaten by the only person in the world he trusts. How is this even a question?” Joly says. 

“But he’s—“

“No buts,” Bahorel says. “I’m going. Y’all can come, or not. I don’t care.” He shrugs on his coat.

There is a moment of quiet and then the rest of the Amis follow him. It’s a silent walk over to the apartment Enjolras and Grantaire share. Outside the front door, they try to make a plan.

“Okay,” Combeferre says calmly. “Let’s wait and plan what we’ll do. We’ll talk to them. Ask to speak to just Enjolras, and then—“

Bahorel pounds on the door.

He isn’t planning to punch Enjolras in the face. Honestly. It’s just that he’s there, and Bahorel catches a glimpse of Grantaire’s reddened back from where he’s trying to hide, and suddenly he’s swinging.

“Stop!” Grantaire yells. “Stop, he didn’t do anything!”

Enjolras turns to Grantaire instinctively, checking to make sure his submissive is all right. Grantaire fumbles to get his pants back on, leaving his shirt in his rush to get to Enjolras. 

“Give me one good reason you have that bruise on your face, then,” Bahorel insists. 

Jehan and Combeferre catch Grantaire on his way to Enjolras, stopping him. Jehan is gentle but deceptively strong, and for all Combeferre’s kindness no man of that size can be described as anything less than intimidating. The two of them hold him back as Grantaire flies into a blind panic. 

“Just talk to us, love,” Jehan says.

“I asked for it,” Grantaire says. “It’s my fault, not his. I asked him for it.”

And of course Grantaire would never phrase it like that if he was thinking clearly, but he isn’t, he’s sobbing and shaking and still in subspace, and Enjolras has to get to him. 

“You have to let me take care of him, please,” Enjolras says, his voice breaking, and Bahorel is so surprised that he reluctantly lets go of his arms so he can make it to Grantaire. Enjolras gently takes Grantaire into his arms, and as soon as Jehan and Combeferre slowly let go, Grantaire whimpers and buries his face in Enjolras’ neck. Enjolras kisses his hair and holds him close. 

Sorry,” Grantaire whispers. “Sorry, sorry, I know, I’m disgusting. Just tell them, Enjolras, please, just tell them so you can all go, you don’t have to deal with me anymore—“

“Shh,” Enjolras murmurs soothingly to him, and then to the rest, “Grantaire and I are in a relationship that, while it is for the most part the same as any other loving relationship, but that includes elements of consensual dominance and submission, and more to the point sadomasochism. It helps with Grantaire’s anxiety and is sexually enjoyable for both of us. Do you have questions, or are you going to get the hell out of my apartment and let me take care of my submissive?”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Bossuet asks.

“Because he was convinced you’d all hate him if you found out,” Enjolras spits. “That you’d reject him, that you’d try to insist I abandon him.”

“Oh, R,” Jehan sighs, leaning towards him.

Grantaire flinches. “Sorry, sorry,” he says quietly.

“Get out,” Enjolras says. “Get out, go, let me fix this. I’ll tell you when you can all come back.”

There’s a long silence, and then they go. 

When the room is empty, Enjolras places a gentle kiss on top of Grantaire’s head. “Love. Are you all right?”

“Ye-“ Grantaire begins, and then shakes his head, sagging in Enjolras’ arms. “No, sir. I’m… I don’t know. I’m sorry.”

“You don’t need to apologize, love. You’ve done nothing wrong. Nothing.” He holds Grantaire tight, letting him cry. “Can I take you to bed? You ought to rest.”

“Yes, sir.”

Grantaire clings to Enjolras’ hand like a lifeline as Enjolras leads them both to the bedroom. Enjolras lays down, extending his arms, and Grantaire curls up into his chest with a grateful little sound. 

“Are you okay, sir?”

“Love?”

“Where Bahorel hit you. I’m sorry. It’s my fault.”

“It isn’t, pet. You didn’t do a thing wrong. And I’m going to be just fine.”

Grantaire presses a sweet kiss against the bruise spreading across Enjolras’ cheek. “Maybe we’ll have matching marks,” he says, and Enjolras is so relieved to hear him joking that he could cry.

“I am so sorry about that. Darling, this is all my fault. I never should have hit you so hard.”

“Enjolras, it’s all right. I loved it. Okay? I’m glad you did it and it felt good and I don’t want you to be sorry, I don’t want you to—“

“What?”

“To decide it’s not worth it. To stop being my dom.”

“Grantaire,” Enjolras says softly. “Look at me?”

Grantaire’s eyes flit up to his face, his beautiful, unfairly perfect face, the face that Grantaire still can’t believe he’s allowed to touch or even look at.

“I am honored and pleased to be your dom. Nothing will prevent me from taking that role in your life, save that you decide you no longer want me to. Not your uncertainty, not the mistakes I have made, not even if all our friends should demand it. Do you believe me?”

“Yes.”

“I love you so much. I just want you to be happy.”

“I love you too,” Grantaire says, but his voice is still weak and spacy and Enjolras is angry now. He’s angry that the people who are supposed to be Grantaire’s friends have done this to him. He’s angry at his own impotence, that he had no choice but to stand by and watch this happen to the man he loves. But there’s no room for his anger.

The important thing now is taking care of Grantaire. “I’m right here, love. We’re going to talk to the others in the morning—“ Grantaire tenses up at that, until Enjolras cards his fingers through his hair. “Listen. It was all a misunderstanding. I know that, and I’m sure they’ll be eager to apologize to you. But right now you’re still in some kind of headspace, and you need to be good and lie here with me and try to relax so we can get you back to yourself.”

“Yes, sir,” Grantaire says, reassured by the calm, gentle way Enjolras delivers his commands. 

“That’s my sweet boy. Now, you just lie here. I’m right here with you. I’m not going to leave you, because you’re my good boy and I love you so much. Just listen to my voice, you don’t have to say anything. There’s nothing to be scared of. I’m here. I’m right here.”

Grantaire sighs happily, starting to relax, and Enjolras keeps up that stream of gentle praise until Grantaire is fast asleep in his arms. 

 

Grantaire is still wary the next morning, but he agrees to meet with the others over coffee and pastries. He and Enjolras are the first to arrive at their usual café. 

“One word, my love, and we go,” Enjolras promises him. 

“Just promise me you’ll be here,” Grantaire asks, and Enjolras nods gravely at him.

The next person to show up is Combeferre, prompt as usual. He goes up to the counter, orders a black coffee and a croissant like the one Grantaire is picking wordlessly at, and sits down at the large table in the back. He bows his and doesn’t speak for a few seconds. When he does, he addresses them both. “My dear friends. I am so sorry. Enjolras, whatever you say, I wronged you by jumping to conclusions. I feel you deserve to know that it was me—your best friend—who suggested… that awful idea to the others. And Grantaire, I hurt you deeply by my carelessness and you have my sincere apologies.”

Enjolras waits, letting Grantaire speak. “I—it’s all right,” Grantaire manages. “You didn’t mean it. And I- I haven’t forgotten that it was you, that encouraged Enjolras to ask me out in the first place.”

“Never think you owe me a debt because of that.”

“He did it because watching you two idiots pine was driving us all mad,” Courfeyrac says, sitting down at the table. “’Morning.”

“Good morning, Courfeyrac,” Enjolras says.

“Sorry I was such an asshole yesterday. How you feeling?”

“I’m all right,” Grantaire says, looking at the two of them. “Um. So.”

“So?” Courfeyrac prompts.

“You aren’t going to try and get Enjolras to break up with me?”

“Why would we do that?” Combeferre asks, his face full of concern.

“Um. Because wanting this is… is…”

Enjolras squeezes his hand under the table. 

“Is not exactly normal.”

“No, Grantaire,” Combeferre assures him. “Of course not.”

“We had the opposite thought,” Bahorel says as he and Jehan. “We thought Enjolras was hurting you, and we were—I mean, I was—going to kick his ass for him.”

“I told him—“ Jehan begins.

“But why?” Grantaire asks.

“Because he hurt you.”

“But he’s your friend.”

“You’re our friend too,” Jehan says. 

The others—Feuilly, Joly, and Bossuet—arrive shortly after that. “Are you all right?” Joly asks.

“Fine. I’m fine,” Grantaire assures him. 

“We owe you an apology too, Enjolras,” Feuilly says, and Enjolras waves it off.

“It’s fine. It doesn’t matter. As long as Grantaire’s all right.”

“I am,” Grantaire assures them. “I just… I just assumed you’d all… I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize, please,” Jehan says. “You didn’t do a thing wrong.”

“I just wish you hadn’t felt the need to keep it secret- not, of course, that you’re obligated to share your private life with us. But you should have been able to,” Combeferre says.

“It isn’t your fault,” Grantaire assures him. “I have… I have had some bad experiences, in the past. It’s not that I don’t trust you.”

“And you believe us now?” Feuilly asks. “That the only reason we would ever try and get between you and Enjolras is… for your sake. Not because we think you aren’t good enough.”

“You’re more than good enough for me,” Enjolras says. “You’re better than I could ever deserve.”

“Damn right,” Courfeyrac says, and Grantaire laughs.

“I wouldn’t go that far,” Grantaire says. “Though I do have one thing going for me.”

“What?” Bossuet asks.

Grantaire smiles. “I have the most wonderful friends.”


End file.
